BRIT HYPESTERS PROVE TRIUMPH OF STYLE

Is hype the art form of the ‘80s? Or is art the hype form of the ‘80s?

Either way you look at it, no one has a better knack for self-promotion than Sigue Sigue (pronounced Sig Sig ) Sputnik, the latest media sensation to emerge from the always hype-happy British rock scene.

Masterminded by Tony James (a former member of Generation X), the band certainly looks the part. Outfitted in all sorts of outlandish glam rags, mascara, false eyelashes and leather trappings, with hairdos coiffed so high they could show up on radar screens, the group looks like a gang of S&M; poodles. They’ve provoked riots at their live gigs, had their video banned, prompted critical outrage (“truly appalling” said one reviewer) and seen their debut single, “Love Missile F1-11,” zoom to No. 2 on the British charts.

But what makes the group so intriguing (or ridiculous, depending on your point of view) is the way it’s attempted to sabotage pop’s creaky star-making machinery. “The group is really all a fantasy,” James explained during a recent phone interview from London. “The whole idea was to put together a band that would be like the group I’d want to have in my wildest dreams--and I could be in it.

“Our songs are really only the sound track to the visuals. I took everything from my favorite music--a rocket-charged Donna Summer beat, some T. Rex and ‘dub’ music--and threw in all my favorite images from ‘Blade Runner’ and ‘The Terminator.’ It’s like video action painting. We’re the first rock group to come along and take ahold of what’s happening. And what’s happening is what you see when you turn on your TV.”

With the music there to merely accentuate the visuals, it comes as no surprise that James recruited his style-warriors the way a producer would cast a movie. Except for James, none of the band members could play a note when they joined the group. As he likes to put it: “We looked terrific before anyone could play at all. Teaching someone to play drums is easy. Teaching someone to have charisma is practically impossible.” (Teaching the band how to use hair-spray was apparently a snap).

In fact, the group is an unlikely triumph of style over substance. It financed its original recording studio and instruments by selling T-shirts with slogans like “Rambo Child” and “Fleece the World.” As James explains, “Fans today like artifacts, so we give them a lot of great packaging.”

James even boasts that EMI Records, which signed the group to a lucrative record contract in Britain (they’re on Manhattan Records here) didn’t get to hear any of the usual audition tapes. Instead, James screened a video for the eager executives, whose interest had been aroused by the band’s series of hit-and-run live shows at remote locales around London.

“We didn’t even let them keep the video,” he said. “It’s much more effective to make them use their imagination. I didn’t want us to be just one of 200 cassettes sitting around the office. It’s a game with record executives. You have to make them think you’re special and a little bit dangerous, so they don’t take you for granted.”

James laughed. “The secret is to go in to see the record executives, tell them you just want to be creative and exciting and then send your lawyer in and have him ask for more money than they’ve ever dreamed of.”

James is a little vague about how the band plans to conquer America--they’re due to arrive here later this year. But he’s convinced the group’s bewildering collection of pop culture images will play just as well overseas, even without a barrage of hype. “We haven’t done any interviews in Europe and our record is still in the Top 5 everywhere,” he said. “I’m not worried about whether radio in America is too conservative or not. The kids that are going to buy our record are watching TV these days, not sitting by the radio.”